The Winchesters in Technicolor
by Kalira of the flames
Summary: When Sam stumbles upon the old Winchester family videos in their father’s vault, his enthusiasm unwittingly brings up painful memories for Dean. Set during Season 3.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: When Sam stumbles upon the old Winchester family videos in their father's vault, his enthusiasm unwittingly brings up painful memories for Dean.

**The Winchesters in Technicolor**

**Part 1**

Dean Winchester was acting like a complete bastard and his brother Sam decided he didn't give a damn.

He could probably coax whatever was bothering Dean out of him (like pulling teeth) but his mind was racing too much to bother with it as they went down the road to the motel they had checked into earlier that day. His stomach was clenched and his heart was throbbing in his chest like it was going to burst.

Sam was going to see his mother.

Not literally of course but as close as he would ever get to seeing her again in his lifetime. His mother, who had been forced to the ceiling and burned to death trying to protect her infant son. The flickering burning ghost wandering their family's old house twenty years later who "died" again trying to protect him.

Sam tried to smile. He was going to see her in full color.

Dean had some memories at least, not many but some, that Sam would never have and honestly he would always be jealous of that. For having memories of their mother and of their father before the fire, a man who had been through wars before but had no knowledge yet of the evil he would be fighting the next 20 years. How his destiny was to die, still a soldier, and sell his soul for his firstborn son.

They only had a few pictures of both of their parents. Already his father's gruff voice, (the one who had pushed him his entire life, could make him snap in a minute to attention or anger, the voice that was a lot rougher but very similar to Dean's), was fading from Sam's mind.

Dean had the music blasting as the car slowed in the parking lot with its comforting growl. Sam wasn 't as in love (understatement) with the 67' Chevy Impala as Dean, but this was the only home Sam had had consistently as a child so he was rather fond of her too. "Hey! Wait. Dean. We gotta stop at the office remember?"

His brother grimaced and rubbed his face with his palm as he obediently pulled up outside the motel desk. "I doubt they got a VCR in there dude if they're not in the rooms. Don't sulk or cry or anything when you come out disappointed."

Sam rolled his eyes and slammed the door as he rushed into the office out of the drizzle, leaving his prize safely on the front seat.

--

It had been Sam's idea to go to the storage locker again.

Alright, so the last time they went he got some skinned knees, a lost shoe, and a bullet in the shoulder because of one of their Dad's curse boxes, but it wasn't anything fatal, right?

Okay. So it was a pretty transparent attempt at finding something for Dean. They were getting desperate at this point and if their father had something as rare as a rabbit's foot that could give someone enough luck to throw a pen into the barrel of a gun they could have found something that could at least help.

Dean only had months left to live before the hellhounds came for him and he left Sam as the last Winchester. Sam was starting to believe they really were cursed.

It ended up being a bust. Most of the other curse boxes contained fun things like… well… curses. Not much help there.

Dean was no help whatsoever either. He was busy entertaining himself with the school awards and things their father actually kept and that Sam had privately thought he'd thrown away when the boys weren't looking. It almost made him feel guilty. Almost. _It's kind of sociopathic for Dean to have nostalgia for a gun he made when he was twelve. This family… _

If Dean noticed the very visible disappointment in Sam's face and his slouching, he didn't comment. Didn't even say 'I told you so' although he _had_ told Sam it wouldn't help. The trip to New York had been out of the way. They tried to keep their jobs within a few states of each other and work their way across the country with the rising gas prices and Dean not tolerating flying. They'd been close to California when Sam got the idea but he refused to wait. The pressure was on. They only had a few months left.

Of course it was when Sam was brooding against a wall fixating on how this was a monumental waste of time that Dean unintentionally struck gold. "What is this? 'Puff the Magic Dragon'? 'Bath time 83'?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and walked to where Dean was standing holding an old VHS tape loosely in his hand. It had a faded and coffee stained yellow label with their father's barely legible scrawl on it. Even Sam sometimes had trouble decoding it, so he had Dean deal with Dad's journal while Sam stuck to the internet research.

He snatched the tape out of his brother's hand to examine it. "Hey!" Dean gave him a light smack in the head before looking back where he found it. "Some more down here."

Sam leaned next to Dean and took a few more out. "'Sammy at the Hospital'… Dean. Do you know what these are?"

"Physical documentation of what an idiot you are to land yourself in the Hospital?"

"Stop joking around. I think these are Dad's."

Dean fixed him with a deadpan look. "Well we are in Dad's storage locker, surrounded by all his worldly possessions and random supernatural crap. Whose did you think they would be?"

Sam continued, like he always did when Dean interrupted him to make stupid comments. "Did Dad have a video camera?"

There must have been at least ten of the black VHS tapes stored in a thick birthday party bag that someone hadn't bothered to throw out. Their Dad was organized like that. Some were protected with the little cardboard sleeves and others went without, some of them didn't even have labels.

Dean looked thoughtful. "I don't know, Sam. But even if he did I don't think those are what you think they are. Everything we had got destroyed in the fire. Most of the pictures we still have were in Dad's wallet."

"So they could have been in the basement. That's where that woman Jenny found some of our old stuff. Why the hell would Dad have filmed me in the hospital, Dean? Seriously."

"Okay _that _was a joke. But this... They don't even look like they'll work. They've been in this place for who knows how long? Just leave em' and let's go back to the room." He clapped Sam on the back with a grin. "We'll go trolling at the bar tonight, huh? I'll even buy you a drink." Sam noticed the slight strain in his brother's good humored voice.

Sam frowned and picked up the bag.

These tapes... if any of them worked it would be a priceless treasure for him. Being nomads they hadn't really had any more than what could fit in a duffle bag. He'd never had anything compared to this. Jess' family had had extensive home movies on every occasion. Most of the kids he'd known at school had pictures of family and friends through all their years of life.

Sam had favored weapons and scars for his memories.

These were proof that the Winchesters had been a normal family once. Sam had wished so many times that if the fire had to happen that he had been old enough to remember the house like Dean did. His older brother had hardly talked about it but sometimes, very rarely, when Sam was little and inconsolable waking from nightmares about the things in the dark, Dean would quietly describe their golden haired mother who talked of angels and sang them to sleep. Of course whenever Sam asked about her during daylight Dean would tell him off violently which made little Sam wonder if those stories had been part of his dreams too.

The ride back to the hotel was tense although Sam didn't believe there was any reason for it to be. Dean drove the car with Quiet Riot turned up to the max as Sam clutched the bag in his hands protectively as though it were precious.

--

Sam came out of the office triumphantly with a large black box and a bunch of wires. The clerk had said they could rent it for fifty bucks additional a night. Sam must have smelled of desperation.

He managed to talk the guy down to thirty and didn't plan on telling Dean about the extra. They could afford it. They had a fresh credit card for D. Hasselhoff anyway. It was going to be so worth it, a welcome distraction from the uncertainty that always followed them around.

Sam could barely stand the wait. "Room 32's around the corner, Dean." He hopped back into the Impala without his seatbelt on and pointed the way. He felt Dean's eyes on him.

"So I take this to mean Geek-boy isn't going to be researching our current hunt this evening?" They had found a job pretty close to Buffalo so the trip wasn't completely useless. Dean looked irritated but Sam knew he was interested.

"No one's stopping _you_ from doing it, Dean. I need a night off. "

"Right. Whatever. Like to see you try hooking up the damn thing…"

--

" Red wire, white wire, red wire, white wire. Time's ticking Sammy." Sam tried to ignore Dean, but it was hard. His brother was in an especially annoying perky mood tonight. The defense mechanism was definitely in place.

It took Sam all of fifteen minutes to put the VCR together. Sam and Dean had more experience with disabling high tech alarm systems than anything low tech like a tape player. Dean had more of a knack for it while Sam and John had trouble working the toaster when they had one at one of their crappy apartments.

So the older brother was a bit surprised when Sam managed with a triumphant look after fiddling with the AV wires and trying to figure out which went where.

The younger hunter smirked proudly. "We had a VCR/DVD player at Stanford. Don't ask why but we had to unhook it every time to get cable."

"Good for you, Sammy. Want a cookie?" Dean rolled his eyes and cracked a beer, lounging on one of the double beds to watch Sam work. "Never doubted ya. Hey you wanna watch the game or something?"

Sam grinned. "Nice try. What do _you _think?"

Dean's mask fell slightly as Sam picked out the earliest tape he could find and popped it into the machine. Sam tried to ignore the look on his brother's face. They were just old home movies. So what? He could handle it or leave.

There was a slight whir while Sam made sure there was a blue screen when the TV was on the right channel. The VCR protested as if it were going to spit the video back out before the static appeared on the screen.

"Shit. Was it rewound?"

"You got me, Sam." Dean chugged his beer.

Sam was about to eject the tape when the sound came on and a picture flipped and fuzzed into view.

Both boys' eyes were immediately glued to the screen.

* * *

Inspiration: Part of the inspiration for this story has to be credited to Crimson1 for a brotherly moment in one of the chapters of her fabulous story, "Incubus". This is completely unrelated to that universe but "Incubus" is a great read. So thank you Crimson!

Dedication: Not that he'll ever read this, but this fiction is dedicated to my father, my family's cameraman. It was only after finding a box of our old family movies that I realized how much time he spent documenting our early family life. My current pet project of transferring all the VHS tapes to DVD was another building block on this idea.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: Here's a quick update. I felt it was unfair to post the first chapter, a build up, and not have the second part. But I had part one written last week and I couldn't resist posting it last night. Thank you for all the great reviews so far and I hope you enjoy.

To Avoid Confusion: The first section is what is on the tape, the second is back to the present, and the third is one of Dean's personal memories.

**The Winchesters in Technicolor**

**Part 2**

Last time:_ Sam was about to eject the tape when the sound came on and a picture flipped and fuzzed into view._

_Both boys' eyes were immediately glued to the screen._

_--_

**January 24, 1983**

"John, is it working?" Mary Winchester's sweet voice was heard through the television as the picture flickered in and out. "The red light isn't on."

"Hold on." John's voice sounded so young and full of good humor. Finally the room came into focus, the living room of their house in Lawrence where everything began.

Mary was out of view but the camera was aimed at the couch in the center of the room while someone was shaking and adjusting it. The blue country couch with white flowers seated a fidgety little boy whose short legs were swinging back and forth. His hair was messy and blond and he looked like he wanted to wiggle out of his own skin just so he could get up and jump around. His light green eyes sparkled as he settled on picking some loose thread on the couch.

"Alright, we're rolling. Say hi to the camera, Dean." John went around the camcorder to sit next to his son.

The little boy looked up and smiled shyly. "Hye."

"Okay, Buddy. Now say something smart." He grinned and ruffled Dean's long hair.

"John!" Mary called indignantly from behind the camera.

"Uh uh, Mary. You can only talk when you're in the picture."

"Fat chance of that happening. I don't look good at all today." Her tone turned gentler. "You want to count, Dean? Show everyone how you count."

John grinned and stretched, pulling Dean onto his lap. "Can you count to 20, Birthday Boy?"

The little boy smirked, biting his lip and then shook his head. "Yes you can, you big faker." The father started tickling his son mercilessly and Mary finally appeared. Her long hair was loose; she was wearing a pair of jeans and a thick wool sweater, only just starting to show underneath it.

"Stop teasing him, honey." She sat next to her husband and gave her baby a big messy kiss on the cheek. "We'll send this to Granpa if you can count to twenty. Then we can play it back to Sammy, too. Can you count for Sammy?"

The boy's stopped giggling and his face lit up when Mary placed his chubby hand on her stomach. " 'Kay." He seemed to think for a second before leaning in close to Mary as if whispering just for Sam to hear. "One, Two…. Th'ee. Fo'wa, Five, Si'ss, Seven, Eigh', Nine, Twenty!"

Mary smiled indulgently and the couple laughed, a perfect family. "No cheating, baby. Teeen…" She started him off again with a poke in the stomach. "You know you're gonna need a hair cut soon. Or we won't be able to see those pretty eyes." She said teasingly.

John piped up and messed with little Dean's hair again. "Just as long as you don't do that god-awful bowl cut again, Mare. Kid looked like a monk for months."

Mary playfully swatted at him as Dean continued to count, happily skipping numbers.

--

Sam was enraptured. His brother didn't look back so he didn't see the pained look on Dean's face, the latter's beer held loosely in his hand, forgotten. "And you make fun of _my_ hair, Dean." He could hear the smile in Sam's voice.

_This is… making him really happy, huh?_

"Well we really can't see _your _eyes. And you kind of need them, Sam, if you're gonna look out for my ass." Dean was starting to remember that their father never really got around to taking them to do things like get their hair cut very often.

That thought brought an unbidden memory to his mind. It was a welcome distraction from watching his dead parents in short term family bliss.

--

_Dean was around seven years old when he decided Sam needed a haircut. It was one of the first times their Dad left them by themselves at a hotel room for an extended period of time. Since Dean was school aged then, he had to stay home to take care of Sammy and was left a very bored energetic kid as a result. _

_That was when disaster was born._

"_You need a haircut."_

_Sam looked up, swiping his hair from his eyes for the hundredth time while scribbling on one of Dean's coloring books. "No I not."_

"_Yeah ya do, Sammy. You can't see. How are you going to become a famous artist and color in the lines then?"_

_Sam just looked at his brother in confusion until he got out the scissors. "Dee'?" His voice held a hint of nervousness although Sammy had granted Dean unconditional trust and love since he was a baby in return for Dean's vigilant and protective nature._

"_Don't worry. I'll do it good. Just sit still." Dean scootched behind his little brother and carefully began to cut._

_Sam obediently sat still, biting his lip and trying not to wriggle as snippets of hair fell all over the coloring book. He was being very patient until Dean accidentally cut him on the ear. _

"_mn-" He whimpered and Dean dropped the scissors when he saw the tiny cut they left. "You okay Sammy? M'sorry." He turned Sam around, face filled with remorse but there was no way he could stop the tears that were welling up in his baby brother's eyes._

_It started out quietly and gained in volume until Sam was wailing, fat tears rolling down his face. "Please don't, Sam. I didn't mean it." He impulsively pulled his little brother up into his lap and hugged him. "I barely grazed you, right?"_

"_Hu't me..." Sammy just buried his head in his brother's shoulder with a small sob and a shake. "No more, Dee'." He pulled back a little and his large lower lip quivered. " 'kay?"_

_Dean wiped his brother's tears away with his own sleeve once the crisis was over. "I'd never hurt you Sammy, I won't cut yer hair ever again. Promise."_

_Sam sniffled again. "m-hm. C'we play airplane now?" His eyes were still a little red rimmed but dry and Dean couldn't help wondering if that was Sammy's game all along. _

_He lifted his brother as high as he could with his own skinny frame and swung him around, his little brother's mauled hair ruffling in the man-made breeze._

_Who knew how manipulative this innocent, wide eyed kid would become in the future when it came to Dean? Maybe it all started then._

--

Dean started from his thoughts when the clip ended. The tape turned to snow with the loud buzzing that came along with it. He almost felt relieved when an old war movie came on.

Sam groaned. "Dad and his war movies. I hope he didn't tape over anything."

"What would it matter if he did? You got to see something. The past shouldn't matter anyway." Dean chugged his warming beer and grabbed another. "Why do you want to look back so much?"

"Because it matters to me." Sam's eyes hit Dean's and even though he shouldn't have, Dean felt that same guilt as when he had accidentally cut his brother. It was a wounded look and he couldn't stand it.

Luckily, or unluckily, the war movie fuzzed out to show a dim room on the screen. Shadows were moving around slowly before a dim light flicked on revealing the pale white walls of a hospital and the muffled agitated sounds of an infant…


	3. Chapter 3

**The Winchesters in Technicolor**

**Part 3**

Last time: _Luckily, or unluckily, the war movie fuzzed out to show a dim room on the screen. Shadows were moving around slowly before a dim light flicked on revealing the pale white walls of a hospital and the muffled agitated sounds of an infant…_

_--_

**May 2, 1983**

"John…" The groggy voice that was unmistakably Mary's called from off the screen as a silent camera person turned the camcorder from the edge of the bed to John, who looked impossibly large as he held a tiny, tightly swaddled baby in his arms. "Show Dean."

The little boy toddled over in his bright new jean Oshkosh overalls from the right to his father's hospital chair. John was dressed in a sterile blue paper gown over the clothes he had worn to work the previous day; the policy back then for men allowed in the room for the births. He seemed reluctant to even show Dean his baby brother, as if afraid his elder son would accidentally break him.

"That's Sammy," said an unidentified female voice really close to the camera. "That's your baby brother, Dean."

Dean looked over at his mother on the bed questioningly and the woman with the camera followed him with the view finder. Mary looked tired but beautiful with her long blonde hair spread out over the pillow and a content fatigued smile on her face as she looked at her now eldest son. "Mm-hm."

Dean looked confused and pointed to her stomach. "But dat's d'baby's house." He turned his head unsurely back to his father and the shifting bundle in his arms.

"Oh." Mary's smile lit up her drooping eyes. "Dean's trying to tell me this was where the baby was. --But he's out here to say hi to you now, sweetie. Go see Daddy."

Dean shuffled back to his father with wide eyes and stood on tiptoe to examine the thing. The baby had some of his breakfast on his lips and one of his eyelids was inexplicably stuck shut from the birth as he yawned. He was seemingly at a loss of what to do until he saw the bottle.

Dean knew how to use bottles on babies. They showed it on television all the time.

The new older brother picked up the bottle as John watched and said, "Open up yo'wa mouth." He scowled when the baby refused him, blinking with his one eye up at Dean, as exhausted as his mother from the eventful day. "Open up yo'wa mouth!"

John didn't lose his hold on the baby but addressed Dean quietly so he didn't yell so much in the quiet hospital room. "How about you just touch him, buddy? I don't think he's hungry yet."

Dean stood up on his toes again, shaggy hair covering his eyes from the camera as he leaned over and started vigorously patting the baby's head like a new pet. The child made a strange grunting noise in protest and John grabbed Dean's hand quickly. "Not right there, Dean. He's got a soft spot and you can't touch it." His voice came out rougher than he intended in his worry and the blond boy instantly sulked at the scolding.

At Dean's pouting, John was at a loss. "Oh, let him hold the baby," a voice pleaded from the bed. He gave his wife an 'are you out of your mind' look. This was the little boy who managed to accidentally break most of the toys he got for Christmas… within two hours of unwrapping them.

The disembodied voice from behind the camcorder piped up, zooming in on little Dean's dramatically pushed out lower lip. "Just pretend. If you move your knee he can almost sit in your lap and 'hold' the baby's legs while you still have him."

John shrugged and the three Winchester 'men' adjusted themselves accordingly. Dean was half on the chair and John's lap and trying to grab the baby out of his Dad's arms completely in his enthusiasm. "Mmph- Whoa, Deano. We'll share it okay?"

"Right. You gotta share the baby, honey." Mary must have been on a lot of good drugs, unconcerned and even amused at her husband's plight.

"How about touching his hand?" The voice interjected again. "You want to hold his hand?"

"Look at Helen, baby." Mary referred to the woman behind the camera.

"You see the baby's little fingers, Dean? If you put your fingers there he'll hold your hand."

Dean looked down and started to move one of the hands 'supporting' the baby to touch his fragile little brother when the child suddenly stretched in their father's arms, one of his hands spreading palm upwards in front of Dean's. When Dean was about to back off, looking down unsurely at the movement, his Dad finally stepped in. "Hey look at that. He's waving at you, Dean. Sammy's giving you five!"

Dean grinned at that and slapped his brother's little hand enthusiastically at the suggestion.

John's eyes widened in panic and his humor left immediately. "Okay, don't do that." The women started laughing.

"Just be gentle. Move in close and hold his hand." The camera snuck over to Mary again who was watching with rapt attention as her sons had their first meeting.

The little boy did as he was told with curious green eyes, his mouth opening in wonderment when his little brother curled his fingers around Dean's slowly.

It was obvious this was one of the significant moments in Dean's young life and he looked down in awe at his red faced little brother, now calm and serene. He might not mind being a big brother after all. Dean was unaware of all the love coming at him from all sides, his father and mother smiling gently as they watched.

"You like Sammy?"

"Yah…" Dean replied absently, locking eyes with the newborn.

--

"You know you were kind of a cute kid." Sam remarked when the clip ended and there was more fuzz and snow.

"'Course I was. What'd you expect?"

"Well Missouri did say you were weird looking." Sam smirked at his brother before noticing the slowly growing pile of beer bottles on the bedside table. Dean's eyes looked pained when he mentioned Missouri.

Sam frowned. He had read his father's early diary entries. How much did Dean remember when he was that young?

Did he remember when they lived at Missouri's temporarily after their mother's death? Did he remember being mute for almost a year and crawling into Sammy's crib at night to curl up with him as their newly paranoid father guarded them with a shotgun?

Dean popped a new beer as another thought occurred to Sam. Was it better or worse to be able to remember the idealistic American dream they had been meant to live? When the Djinn captured Dean last year it revealed that it was his fondest wish to have grown up that way. His 'wish' coming true was a painful reminder of a life that they'd never had and never would; it made it all the worse.

A clip from 'The Wizard of Oz' fuzzed in while Sam was lost in his thoughts. It looked like their father had been taping things off of TV, maybe to collect for Dean to watch as a toddler. A hot air balloon was rising into the sky and Dorothy was crying with her brown hair down and curled towards the end of the movie.

"_Oh but this could never be like Kansas. I just want to go home..."_


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: It's been a long couple of weeks. The lack of updates was me being chained to my desk for finals. Let me tell you that it also sucks when your birthday's around finals. It tends to put a damper on things. But as of Tuesday I'm finished and shall never have to write another paper! Graduation from college is on Saturday. Real world here I come.

**The Winchesters in Technicolor**

**Part 4**

Last Time: _When the Djinn captured Dean last year his 'wish' coming true was a painful reminder of a life that they'd never had and never would; it made it all so much worse._

_A clip from 'The Wizard of Oz' fuzzed in while Sam was lost in his thoughts. A colorful hot air balloon was rising into the sky and Dorothy was crying. _"Oh, but this could never be like Kansas! I just want to go home..."

**May 8, 1983**

**Mother's Day**

The picture flipped in and the blonde cherub that was Sam's little older brother was sitting on a bed in front of the camera with a blank look on, blinking at the camera as though he had been unceremoniously dropped in that spot by a tornado and looked understandably disoriented.

The partially unmade queen-sized bed in John and Mary's room was set like a stage in a Sear's photo studio, a comforter folded up behind Dean as if it were propping him up. Little Sammy was wrapped up in a puffy blanket with teddy bears and balloons, one eye still stuck shut (something the doctors had assured them would only last a week or so), propped in Dean's lap with the boy's slightly chubby arms wrapped around him.

There was a little shuffling behind the camcorder and Mary's voice came through from behind again. "Okay, the red light's on right? –Say hi, Dean."

"Hye, Dean," The little boy echoed with a grin.

"Yeah, you're very funny." There was a smile in Mary's voice. "Say 'hi Julie'!"

"Hi Ju'ie." Dean's grin widened, quite happy with the attention, while Sammy made little noises like a newborn kitten and shifted on his brother's lap.

"Hi Deacon, Hi Carol," She instructed him.

"Hye Dee-cun, Hye Cawel." Dean gave his most charming look at the camera.

"This is my brother."

Dean's grip was getting a little lax on the infant and Sammy, half asleep, started to slide down the toddler's knees. "Dis is my brudder…" Then he proceeded to sneeze in his brother's face while the baby yawned provoking an 'oh great, he sneezed right in his face' and a groan from his mother.

"Keep a' hold on him, boy. Remember Paula and Kenny." John interjected.

Dean nodded seriously at his mission and one arm hoisted Sammy back up underneath his neck and shoulders to get him settled again. "Hye Pawla an' Kenny."

"And Deacon."

"He just said Deacon," Mary interrupted this time. "Is he still coming over next Saturday?"

"Yeah, he's bringing the kids. I hear he's having a little trouble with Carol though. Just don't mention it when you and the girls do… whatever it is you do when you go out."

"You mean troll for new husbands with more money?" Dean was poking at his baby brother on camera while his parents were distracted, sticking his tongue out when the baby tried to open the eye that was stuck shut and failed.

"Well if that means I can go after other women…" John replied slyly.

Mary's soft voice was suddenly deadly serious. "Better not if you want to keep the capability to have more kids, John Winchester." A little smooching and a soft smack as she laughed a little. "Now quit it and let me get back to my movie, you big jerk. –Who's with you, Baby? Who are you sitting with?" Her attention was finally back on Dean who beamed.

"I'm not a baby, 'm a big brudder." Dean leaned into the baby's face, nuzzling his nose to give him an Eskimo kiss and petting his head roughly.

"_This is great..._" Mary breathed to her husband conspiratorially. "My mistake. What's your brother's name?" John wandered into the frame to make sure Dean had a good hold on Sam again, looking amused.

"John, jeez, get out of the picture." Mary hissed before deciding to give her son a hint. "Is that Sammy?"

Dean bit his lip before smiling brilliantly and nodding. "Yah, this is Sammy." Then he spared a look at his mother out of view. "Tha't a boy's name? Are boys name' Sammy?"

--

Dean snorted at the same time as young John on the screen as he popped another beer.

Sam spared him a moment to roll his eyes, smirking a little at the same time when his brother and Dad had the same reaction. _I always knew Dean was a lot closer to Dad than I was, well… as close as you could be to the man, but I never thought that either of us were anything like him. _It was a little sad that this good humored version of the man had died only six months after this video was taken.

--

Another playful smack was heard when John snickered but neither parent intruded on the scene. "Of course it is."

Dean smiled proudly at making his father laugh, eyeing the camera as if playing to an invisible audience, really hamming it up. "I wan' candy! I want easta' eggs."

"No more Easter eggs, buddy. Easter was a long time ago, today's Mother's Day remember?

_The camera flipped again _suddenly with no space between clips. Mary Winchester was sitting in a loose t-shirt and jeans a size too big for her, probably due to her recent delivery. She was holding her infant son in one arm against the side of the chair as Dean crawled into her lap and gave her a big hug and a sloppy kiss. "Happy Mudder's day. Love you, Mommy." She hugged her sons back and gave Dean a kiss back on the head.

"I love you too, Dean. _And_ my present." She held up a necklace made of paperclips, wallpaper, and paste that hadn't been visible around his neck. "Did you make it at nursery school?"

--

The adult Dean suddenly stood up. "That's enough, Sam."

Sam was startled out of watching the scene, of watching the love in his mother's eyes. The same look she gave to Sam as her ghost stroked his face and said 'I'm sorry.'

"What? What's wrong?"

"I'm just sick of watching this shit that's all." Dean slammed his last empty beer on the table, his voice rough. "Give it a rest. You've got the rest of your life to watch this stuff, right."

Sam winced at Dean's unintentional reminder of his impending death. Everyday closer to the day the hellhounds came for his soul.

Dean must have noticed Sam's stricken look. "Jeez. Don't give me that look, Sammy. It's just for a little bit, okay? It's not like they're gonna disappear." That was when Sam noticed how tired his older brother suddenly looked, his eyes were a little red and they looked a little shiny in the dim light of the hotel room.

Dean suddenly turned away before Sam could look any closer.

"Dean…?"

"I'm going to bed so just shut the damn thing off, okay?" There was no room for anything else to say so Sam didn't. For now.

And that was the end of it.


	5. Chapter 5

Last time: _That was when Sam noticed how tired his older brother looked, his eyes were a little red and they looked shiny in the dim light of the hotel room. _

"_I'm going to bed so just shut the damn thing off, okay?" There was no room for anything else to say so Sam didn't. For now._

**The Winchesters in Technicolor**

**Part 5**

It wasn't until Sam turned five years old that he began to wonder why they didn't have a mother.

It must have been his first year in kindergarten.

John Winchester couldn't afford preschool for his youngest, so he forged some papers and had Sammy aged up to get into the system so Dean wouldn't be missing school nearly as much while John went away on short hunts. In retrospective, Sam realized this was less about Dean's success in school and more for the benefit of social workers not coming to call on them and "misunderstanding their situation", something that happened all too often in subsequent years.

Dean's teachers' well meaning concerns were becoming… inconvenient. They moved around so much even then, that by the time the teachers started to discuss parent-teacher meetings the Winchesters were already headed out of town. But as Sam grew older John needed to rethink the strategy he had in his one man war against evil.

Dad had let out his sob story, a blue collar widower and single parent with several jobs trying to make ends meet, or just greased the superintendant's palm with gambling money and Sam began school in the fourth term of the year.

In that district kindergarten was only for half days, being more about teaching children how to share and finger paint than learn, but with John's silver tongue he was able to strike a deal with the principal to let Sammy stay from the morning through the afternoon session until his older brother was dismissed from his third grade class and could take him home.

On Sam's first day, nine-year-old Dean had walked him into his classroom.

--

_Sammy squeezed Dean's hand while his other crunched into a tiny fist as he hung back behind his big brother. It was crowded and loud in the garish primary colored room. He'd never been around so many other kids before. It had always been just him and Dean or Daddy. _

_He never played outside much then and when he did, Dean and his brother kept to themselves, his wise elder brother telling him not to talk to other people. They would never understand them. Sam listened._

_But now, for the first time in Sam's life, Dean was trying to leave him._

"_S'okay Sammy. You're gonna have fun, okay?" The effect of Dean's reassurance was lessened by the slight tenseness in his shoulders. Dean was looking at the six-year-olds warily, making Sam cling more as a middle aged woman with bright red lipstick and a grey beehive kept with bobby pins, and a more than liberal amount of hairspray, knelt down next to them. _

_Sam felt Dean stiffen. "You his teacher?" His eyes bore into the stranger intensely. _

"_Yes, I'm Ms Sheeney." She looked to the younger boy with his large hazel eyes and messy hair. "And you must be Sammy, huh? Welcome to our class." Sheeney held out her hand and although her perfume was much too strong and he could feel the rigid muscles in his brother's arm, Dean let Sam go._

"_You take care'a him."_

"_Of course, Dean. We'll be expecting you back at three o'clock. Now come on, Sam. I'll show you where the crayons are and what we'll be doing today."_

_Sam reluctantly took her offered hand, looking back at Dean, who seemed at a loss of what to do, the empty hand that had just been enclosing his younger brother clenched as he watched them helplessly. Dean forced a smile. "Be good, okay? And don't let any of these assholes push you around."_

_Sam relaxed and nodded seriously, not noticing the teacher's gasp at the young boy's language. Dean gave him a grin, flicked his collar up, and sauntered back into the hallway._

--

Sam smiled a little as he pulled off his pants to sleep in his boxers in the double bed furthest into the room. Dean always took the bed by the door, overprotective in even the most subtle ways.

Dean wasn't sleeping but it seemed like he was making a valiant effort at getting Sam to think he was. His breathing wasn't entirely even and Sam could practically feel the tension his brother was exuding.

Deciding to leave him alone for now, Sam turned away from his brother as he got into bed, his feet hanging off of the narrow twin a bit before he curled up on his stomach, clutching a pillow under his head.

The television was off, the movies tucked safely in his duffel bag. Sam tried to shake the irrational fear that Dean might do something to them in the middle of the night. He had looked that angry… Or upset.

Sam couldn't help worrying about him.

The look on his brother's face after watching the footage of himself hugging and kissing their Mom on Mother's day in '83…

Well that holiday had never been a good one for the Winchesters. Was there ever a good day for them? It was just another anniversary that they tried very hard to pretend wasn't significant.

However, Sam's first day of kindergarten in Erie, Indiana was before he learned much about his family. Before he learned how to pretend things like that didn't matter.

It was the Friday before Mother's Day.

--

_The five-year-old's hazel eyes were red and puffy, sobbing quietly as he hid in the cubby corner by himself during free play time. The second class of kindergarteners would be arriving soon and Sam would have to listen to the same daily activity explained over again, have to listen to the queries of the other kids about things he didn't know the answer to. _

_He rubbed his face hard but couldn't stop the trembling of his lip, hoping no one would find him. He didn't wanna look like a crybaby or tell on anyone. He wanted to be left alone._

_No._

_He just wanted Dean._

Can't tell time but… it's a long time since he left so he should be back for me soon. Said he'd come back soon..._ Sam's breath hitched but he stiffened his shoulders when he heard the other kids filtering out of the classroom. Sam would find Dean himself and then they'd go home and play or watch TV and Dean could give him Lucky Charms with lots of milk for dinner or get them junk food and then he could forget all about school._

_The tears came again and Sam felt a hand on his shoulder. "Sammy…?" It was Jenny, Ms Sheeney's assistant teacher. She didn't smell like an old lady and had a nice smile, her mousy brown hair tied in a low ponytail. _

"_Don't you want to have some lunch and then make some new friends? More kids will be here soon." She gave him that nice smile, her paint covered green smock crinkling as she kneeled down. _

_He imagined his mom might have had a smile like that. His father never smiled so moms must be the ones that did the smiling._

_Sam sniffed and rubbed the snot running down his face on the sleeve of his baggy hand-me-down shirt. "I wanna go home with Dean." He looked up at the young woman with the watery eyes that usually got him what he wanted, even from their stern father. "Need him." He sniffed again hard and clenched his eyes shut._

_Jenny seemed to survey him for a moment and her sympathy won out. It was only the child's first day in a classroom where all the kids already knew each other. The boy looked exhausted. "Okay." She ruffled his shaggy hair affectionately and frowned a little at his flinch. "I'll see if I can get permission for Dean to come down. I'll call your Daddy to have him pick you up."_

_Sammy nodded slowly, knowing better than to blurt out that their father wouldn't be home for three more days. He knew somehow Dean would take him home anyway. He rubbed his eyes with his cleaner sleeve before taking the hand she offered him and walking slowly back over to the activity table where his supplies were still spread out before him. _

_He heard the teacher's speak softly for a little while before Jenny left the room and he fidgeted and listlessly tore little pieces of paper off the roll out for the students' projects and sorted the strips into piles by color until he heard the pounding of someone hurtling down the hallway._

"_Please don't run in the hallways!" echoed the exasperated voice of one of the adult hall monitors._

_Sam stood up, ready to bolt to his brother when Dean burst into the room wild eyed and searching for his baby brother._

"_Dean," Sam was surprised to hear his own voice come out so small. _

_The older Winchester boy immediately slid over on his knees, taking in Sammy's ruffled appearance and checking him over for any injuries; standard Sammy protocol. "Sammy, y'okay? That lady said you were crying. What happened? Someone hurt ya?" Dean's eyes hardened and his eyes flicked around the room to find a culprit, only coming upon Ms Sheeney correcting papers at her desk._

_The rapid fire questions had Sam close to tears again as Dean straightened out his little brother's shirt and fussed over him. Both teachers looking on in a mix of disgust and awe as the nine-year-old licked a hand to rub off the dried snots on the little boy's face and wiped up with his own sleeve. They not so secretly hoped that the boy's father did laundry often._

"_Just wan' go home, Dean." He stuck out his bottom lip and the older boy stood up straight and gave Ms Sheeney a look._

_She nodded slightly. "We couldn't reach Mr. Winchester but the principal notified me you both have special permission to leave school grounds today."_

_Dean answered her with a curt nod back, his expression far too adult for his few years, and immediately went to Sam's cubby hole to grab his ratty windbreaker and lunchbox, still stuffed with cheerios that had just been poured into the plastic case without ceremony that morning. Then he went back to pick up the crestfallen boy. He bundled him up efficiently as the ladies watched on. The younger boy automatically latched on to his brother as soon as he was able after stuffing the project he was working on into his pockets. _

"_Feel better Sammy! We'll see you tomorrow, alright?" Ms Sheeney called after them but Dean had already dragged Sam into the hallway to speed out into the street and walk to their temporary residence. _

_Dean's voice was slightly gentler when his frail looking sibling didn't respond to his earlier questions. "What happened Sammy? I thought you'd like it there. …Give me names. First and last." _

_Sam winced when Dean couldn't keep the hardened tone out of his voice completely. It couldn't be helped, when Dean thought of any of those little bastards touching his baby brother..._

"_Wasn't them… Johnny asked why I couldn't make a present like everyone else and I said I didn't have Mom, but Ms Sheeney made me make a present anyway and said I should give it to Daddy." The words began to spill out of Sam and he choked again. "-but Daddy isn't here and Mother's Day is s'posed to be for Moms so I shouldn't have made a present. You can't send presents to heaven."_

_Dean slowed their walk and bit his lip as Sam continued. _

"_And they kept askin' me and I didn't know why we didn't have a mom, but they kept asking…" Fat tears ran down Sam's face again as they went up the pebble covered drive to their shabby duplex. Dean squeezed his little brother's hand but didn't reply as he fiddled with the rusty lock and let Sam in to the sparsely furnished living room._

"_Well Ms Sheeney's a bitch." Dean commented finally. Sam's eyes widened. Other kids were one thing but Dean didn't usually talk about adults like that. "You shouldn'ta had to do anything you didn't want." He finally let go of Sam's hand that he seemed to realize he was still holding as he went for the cabinet where they kept the cereal._

_Sam dropped his lunch box on the floor and sat at the table, keeping his thin jacket on. It wasn't a very warm day for May and the apartment wasn't well insulated._

_He heard the tinkling of pouring cereal but he kept his eyes to the table as he waited for Dean to continue. "It's none of their damn business what happened to Mom and you tell those little assholes that too." Dean came over with two mismatching bowls and the milk. The box of cereal was empty now and Dean handed his little brother the prize inside._

_The 'magical popper,' whatever the hell that was, earned a watery smile. "Anyway it's not even a real holiday. Nobody gets a day off and there are no fireworks and everyone knows that on holidays _kids _are supposed to get the presents. It's stupid. When I had to make that stuff I just told them to screw."_

_Sam couldn't help the giggle that escaped his mouth, and Dean grinned triumphantly as he poured the last of the milk into Sam's bowl. His own cereal was dry and he started eating the crunchy bits around the marshmallows as he continued talking. "So don't worry about making any dumb presents or anything. It's not like you're getting graded on it or nothin'." Dean ruffled his little brother's soft hair and earned another smile. Dean was the only one he felt comfortable with touching him, no matter how nice or like a mom Jenny was._

_After a big bite of cereal, Sam reached into the pocket of his jacket and shyly brought out what he had been clutching in his left hand. "I made it."_

_Dean blinked and bent over the table, still chewing, to see the small item better and his mouth fell open slightly. It was a string of paper clips, something the older boy only found useful for picking locks, with small strips of what looked like wall paper that had been dipped in glue rolled around each one until it _

_formed a perfect little bead. The pattern alternated light pink and green. It was surprisingly well made for a kindergartener but Sammy had always been a perfectionist._

_Dean's green eyes held a faraway look, the speckling of freckles on his face standing out as Sam watched him curiously. _

_Dean plucked it out of Sam's hand to look at and stuffed more lucky charms in his mouth. "…S'great Sam. I think I made somethin' like this before. Yours is way better though."_

"…_Want it, Dean?"_

_Dean looked back at his cereal doubtfully before appraising the little necklace again. "Its kinda girly, Sammy." _

_The younger boy's face crumpled and he held his hand out for it back. "I can throw it away."_

"_Never said I didn't want it. I want it, Sammy." He gave Sam the warmest smile, a smile he only reserved for his little brother and Sam glowed with pleasure. "It's great. So is today 'Awesome Big Brother Day'?"_

_Sam giggled, his dimples appearing for the first time all day. "You always say you're awesome."_

"_Because I am. Now eat your cereal before it gets soggy, big mouth." Dean carefully tucked the necklace into the pocket of his shirt as he continued eating._

_When Sam was curled up with a pillow on the couch later, with Dean allowing him as much room as he wanted, he gave in to asking what had really been weighing on his young mind during the lunch break. _

"_You think mom would have liked it…?"_

"_She woulda loved it, Sam." Dean carefully appeared absorbed in the slip'n'slide commercial airing but his voice was quietly confident as he passed over his nearly empty bowl of dry cereal to Sam. All that was left was a mini mountain of charm shaped marshmallows, left just for the smaller boy to get a little sugar high off of. _

_Sam seemed to glow after that. He missed having a mom. But maybe he didn't really need one too much._

_He had a big brother._

_He had a Dean._

* * *

Author's Note: Gotta love the unabashed sap.

When I was in elementary school we made presents or did projects for all the seasonal occasions and every student was required to participate. It never occurred to me until now to wonder what they did about the kids that didn't have parents.

I broke pattern and there wasn't a home movie this section. There won't be next chapter either as it's from Dean's point of view.

I hope you enjoyed the very late chapter. I believe there's one for Father's Day as well… a week late. But better than never.


End file.
